


the seraphim and the magi

by majesdane



Category: Criminal Minds, Fringe
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-04
Updated: 2011-04-04
Packaged: 2017-10-17 14:34:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/177880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/majesdane/pseuds/majesdane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>They meet in a bar, of all places.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	the seraphim and the magi

The problem with the FBI is that it's so big.

So often they pass each other in the hall, on the way to their respective wings, departments, to do the jobs they're meant to do. Every so often there's an exchange of hellos between them, usually when they're just by themselves, the words echoing in the empty corridor. At most times they simply nod at each other, just a slight bob of their heads.

Emily wonders what it is the blond does, Olivia wonders why she's never seen the BAU at any of her investigations. Presumably Broyles takes care of it, she thinks, as her eyes flick back to the tall brunette, giving her a once over. She always seems so tense, focused. Always on guard.

"Morning," she says; the woman flashes her a slight smile.

;;

They meet in a bar, of all places.

"What're you drinking?" Emily asks, ready with a chat-up line, vodka and tonic in hand, sliding up to Olivia before she recognizes who she is. "Oh," she says, surprised. "Fancy meeting you here."

"I didn't know you were that sort of person," the blond says with a smirk, sipping at her drink. Emily reads her name off the woman's badge, next to her keys: Olivia Dunham. Fringe division.

She slips onto the empty bar stool next to Olivia. "What sort of person?" she asks, eying her a bit warily, swishing the contents of her drink, watching the lights reflecting off the glass.

Olivia smiles around her drink. "What do you think?"

Emily feels herself flush, despite herself.

"You don't look like a bar kind of girl," Olivia says, after a pause, her smile widening. She sets her glass down on the counter with a heavy clink, finished.

"Well, that's because I never told you," Emily says, as the girl slips down off her seat, grabbing her badge and keys and stuffing them into her pockets. She nods once at Emily before she leaves; Emily downs her drink and debates following her. For the conversation, she thinks, then decides against it.

;;

She gets a call in the middle of the night.

"Who is this?" Olivia grumbles into the phone, not recognizing the number.

"Sorry," a woman's voice on the other end says, and Olivia sleepily connects the voice to the woman she'd met in the bar, three days prior. The woman who she passed every day in the hall on the way to work. Emily Prentiss.

"Sorry," Emily says again, "But I wasn't sure if this was your number, and I was up anyway, working on a case. I thought maybe I'd -- well, you forget sometimes that not everyone works BAU hours."

Olivia rolls onto her back, running her free hand through her hair. "How did you get my number?"

Emily pauses. "Um." There's the shuffling of papers in the background. "Agent Reid, part of the BAU team. He knows a guy who knows you -- a FBI consultant, I think? Anyway, somehow he ended up with your number and passed it on to me. Said it would do you some good."

"Oh?" Olivia can almost hear Emily smirking through the phone. "Is that right?"

"He also said you should come meet me for drinks sometime," Emily continues on boldly.

"Awful long message to have to pass along. How considerate of you."

"We'd best follow through though, don't you think?"

"Goodnight, Agent Prentiss," Olivia says with a smile, and hangs up.

;;

When Emily enters the bar, the next day, Olivia's there waiting for her, sitting in one of the booths near the back, drinks at the ready for both of them. A whiskey for her and a vodka and tonic for Emily; Emily can't force back down the grin that creeps across her face as she slides down into the seat across from Olivia.

"Did you look me up to find out what my favorite drink was?" she asks, shrugging off her jacket. "Or are you just psychic?"

"You could say that," Olivia says, with a coy smile.

;;

"I usually don't do this," Olivia pants, pressed against the bathroom wall, Emily's hand moving up her shirt, squeezing her breasts, thumbing her nipple through her bra.

Emily's distracted by the feel of Olivia under her, Olivia's hot breath on her ear, her nails digging into the back of Emily's neck. "What?"

"In bars," Olivia manages, biting back a moan as Emily's hand works it's way inside her bra, her mouth sucking on a spot of skin on Olivia's neck until the blood rises to the surface, leaving a plum-colored bruise. "With girls."

"Oh," Emily says, and kisses her.

;;

Three weeks later, in bed, the sheets draped precariously over them both, Olivia says, "I may be gone, soon."

Emily's head is hazy from sex and sleep. "Mm?"

Olivia shifts in closer, bowing her head to press a kiss to where Emily's neck and shoulder's meet, then inward, to the hollow space of her throat. Emily sighs, smiles, melts into her touch. She catches Olivia's wandering hand, draws it down to her stomach, then lower, parting her legs for greater purchase.

"But I'll come back," Olivia murmurs against Emily's ear, fingers flexing and working, slowly. "I'll come back, but I may not be the same."

"Olivia," Emily starts, arching into her touch. "What are you -- "

"I mean, it's the end of the world, maybe," Olivia says, and bites down hard enough on Emily's shoulder to draw blood, marking her. Emily groans, pulls her in for a rough kiss, jerking against Olivia's hand, desperately wanting.

;;

"Olive," Emily says, half-asleep, reaching for Olivia, whose hair is so bright in the morning sunlight that it looks like a halo around her head. "I just remembered -- the end of the world. What was that about?"

"Nothing," Olivia says, pushing the hair out of Emily's eyes and leaning in to kiss her. "It wasn't anything at all."

Emily sighs contentedly, kisses back lazily, tongue just brushing along Olivia's bottom lip. Olivia untangles herself from Emily's arms, rolls over onto her stomach, resting her head on her folded arms, eyes fluttering closed. Emily leans forward, nosing the hair away from her neck, kissing the intricate tattoo at the base of it.


End file.
